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6/27/11

My Daughters and Older Boys--What Does It Mean?

A good Sunday to report. I took my daughter and her “best friend” to a play: Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. It was so enjoyable to share a cultural event with them, and remind them that there’s good drama that has nothing to do with the island they live on. We all thoroughly enjoyed the show and we went out for a lunch afterward and had a nice conversation.
At lunch, I just had to ask some pointed questions. I had noticed that during the show, he had his hand on her leg and she had her head on his shoulder, and when we walked out, they were arm-in-arm. Those are not the typical friend gestures. So I asked them pointedly, “What’s the nature of your relationship?” They stared at me for an entire minute! So funny. I ended up doing most of the talking. I don’t mind him; in fact, I think he’s great and I know they’re there for each other. I recognized that he’s good to her and cares a lot for her well-being. So I asked him, “You really like my daughter, don’t you?” He said, “Yes. I do. A lot.” I told him that I respect that very much and don’t blame him—after all, she’s lovable and beautiful and cares a lot about him. But I would like him to be patient because she’s still 17 and won’t be an adult for 6 more months, though she’s quite mature for her age. But, he’s 21. Could he wait? He said “Of course.” They didn’t have much more to explain to me, but their nonverbals told me that they are very close and might even love each other.
I do like him and am so glad someone cares so deeply for my daughter. I also appreciate that he’s polite and can speak intelligently. I also am grateful that his parents are still married and he loves his mother—meaning, he’s reasonably stable on the surface.
I know he’s had some trouble in the past—my daughter is vague about it, but I assume it has to do with recklessness—like accidents, drugs, or underage drinking. But when I see him, he doesn’t appear to be involved in any of those things (well, he’s 21, so it’s legal for him to drink and do a myriad of other things). I almost feel like my daughter is in good hands with this kid. I personally enjoy his company—I don’t think he’s particularly good-looking or has the ambition I desire in a son-in-law, but he brings out a nurturing side to my daughter that I didn’t know she had. She’s years and years and years away from getting married.
Funny how both my girls have boyfriends who are significantly older than they are. Big sister’s boyfriend is seven years older and little sister’s is three-and-a-half years older; yet, they both seem like they can handle it. I’m strangely okay with their choices because I look at who my girls are when they’re with their significant others. So far, they are themselves, just a little happier. My girls are naturally bossy and these guys adore them, so I don’t see any issues with them being controlled. I think, in turn, my girls feel more protected and safe with older guys—I guess it relates to their “daddy issues.” God, I hate that expression!

6/24/11

Parental Burnout Quiz

I seriously thought this was quiz that was created with ME in mind. See what you think and what it all means here: http://www.chatterbean.com/parenting-quizzes/parental-burnout/

DO YOU HAVE PARENTAL BURNOUT?

Here's a help-wanted ad you won't see in your local paper: Seeking woman with energy, willing to work twenty-four hours a day. Must be patient, loving, wise, dependable, and organized. Must be able to cook, sew, shop, clean, and quickly learn new methods necessary for keeping a household happy and cared for. Salary: none.

There'd be no takers for a job like that, right? Wrong! Today there are 60 million mothers who tackle such tasks seven days a week. Furthermore, every year 3 million more apply for the position.

If you're a mother, you understand the rigors of this job like no one else. And surely you
re aware of its rich rewards. But sometimes you might feel that your labor output exceeds your job benefits. Do you ever feel that you are being taken for granted?

The following quiz was designed to gauge the stress level that mothers are feeling on the job. If you're a mother, take the quiz to see how close to burnout you really are. If you're not a mom, put yourself in your mother's shoes and answer the questions as you think she would answer them.

1) Lately, do you feel more fatigued than usual?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely

2) Do you have difficulty laughing at jokes your family makes about you?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely

3) Are you bothered by physical complaints, such as aches, cramps, pains, and headaches?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely

4) Do you feel irritable and quick-tempered?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely

5) Are you forgetful about dates and appointments, or do you lose or misplace personal belongings?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely 
 
 6) Are you seeing less of your close friends and loved ones?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely

7) Do you experience sleeplessness?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely

8) Do you ever feel inattentive to the needs of others?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely

9) Are you easily distractible and unable to concentrate?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely

10) Are you careless about the appearance of your home?
Often
Sometimes
Rarely

11) Do you own your home?
Yes
No

Explanation
As time passes, most mothers assume an all-giving role with their families. This behavior has been studied by psychologists Dorothy Juneward and Dru Scott at the Transactional Analysis Management Institute of San Francisco. They found that some time after the first child arrives, many mothers adopt this pattern.

Explanation
Here are some of the warning signs: A mom feels she must, at all times, and in all places, be a supermother. She devotes most of her time and energy to her husband and children and little to herself. She has a problem accepting her deserved pleasures. She feels guilty when she relaxes, has fun with misgiving, and buys personal things only after much shopping around.

Explanation
And as if such self-denial isn't enough, this type usually develops into the family scavenger, finishing the wilted lettuce, munching bread ends, and selecting wings when the family dinner is roast chicken. If this sounds all too familiar, the mother in your family may be in a rut. She's grown accustomed to her place.

Explanation
We've heard much recently about burnout striking down even the most hardy of our business executives, but nary a word about mothers. If burnout really does exist in the work world, then those unsung heroines of the kitchen and the car pool deserve a screening, too.

Explanation
Dr. Herbert Freudenberger, in his book Burnout, explains that this creeping malaise can attack families in much the same way that it affects business executives. So take the time to evaluate the mother in your family. Does she have enough job satisfaction? Does she need more vacation time? Are the benefits worth enough? And most of all, monitor her behavior for signs of burnout. If you see them, perhaps it's time to give her an end-of-year bonus (love, hugs, praise) a bit earlier-and more often.

Would You Lie for Your Child?

This is a great question. What do you think?
From: http://www.blogher.com/cindy-anthonys-testimony-would-you-lie-your-child


Cindy Anthony's Testimony: Would You Lie for Your Child?

June 24, 2011 10:11 am by Jenna Hatfield, BlogHer Original Post




Yesterday, Casey Anthony’s mom, Cindy, dropped a bombshell on the Caylee Anthony murder trial. She said -- under oath -- that she was the one who searched for chloroform on the family computer. The prosecution has always used this as their form a smoking gun to prove intent on Casey's part. What now?


Beyond the case itself, the whole bombshell caused me to think about my own family, my own children, my hypothetical future grandchildren and what I would and would not do for my sons.


I love my kids. Unconditionally. While I have tried to curb my helicoptering, I can say that I’d do almost anything to protect my children. I can say without a doubt that I’d give my life for my children. But...


I don’t think I could lie if my child had hurt my grandchild.


I’m not a grandma yet. I won’t pretend to know how I’ll feel about my grandchildren. However, I have watched how being a grandmother has changed my mom and my mother-in-law. In good ways, mind you. I see the love that they have for their grandchildren. I have witnessed the fact that their fierce Mama Bear attitude still exists when one of the boys has been injured or picked on by another child. I know, without a doubt, that they would protect or give their lives for their grandsons. It's the same love that my mom has for me and my mother-in-law has for my husband. They love us. They still try to protect us. They would give their lives for us.


With that said, I know that if I did something unforgivable to one of those boys, neither grandma would be interested in protecting me. My mom loves me. A lot. We’ve been through lots of, well, crap. But she loves me, as does my dad. The love I see they have for their grandchildren, however, is magnified.


I don’t think I believe in lying for your children... but, as someone wrote awhile ago, I suppose I should follow the “never say never” rule of thought. Do I want to lie for my kid to his teacher if he doesn’t do his homework? Some big grand excuse that we had a family emergency and it was unavoidable? No. I believe that teaches kids that parents will always bail them out. And while I’ll always love my kids, I won’t always bail them out. Tough lessons need to be learned sometimes, and it’s my job as a parent to make sure they’re learning those lessons... even the hard way at times.


But... but... if my child was facing jail time for something I wasn’t 100% sure that he did? Would I fudge the truth to place that shred of doubt in the juror’s minds? Would I go so far as to step up and take the fall so my child didn’t have to... just in case my child really was innocent? I can honestly say that I don’t have the answer. So much of parenting is exactly that: not knowing the answer but going about the process of parenting anyway. Whether Cindy Anthony really did search for “chloroform” or “chlorophyll” doesn’t really matter anymore. What matters is that she said she did. Will it save her daughter? That remains to be seen.


So what’s the line for you? When do you protect your child? Where do you draw the line? Is it okay to lie for our children … ever? I don’t know all of the answers and figure that there are all kinds of gray within the issue. But I do maintain that if someone ever hurts my grandchildren, they’re going to have to deal with a raging Grandma Bear.

6/23/11

One Step Forward, One Smashed Pipe

Within the last week, I’ve spoken to the new probation officer assigned to my daughter’s case, for which she’s appearing next week. I had a great conversation with the woman, and she clearly is convinced that my daughter is nothing less than a saint—two jobs, enrolling in school, “thinking of” volunteering for Habitat for Humanity…Why wouldn’t she? I talked her up for an hour, explaining that she had a tough time for a while, that she is now being treated for depression and anxiety, and that we just lost my stepfather and she’s been an angel from heaven for her nana in her time of need.  I filled out the necessary paperwork with all the personal questions, and even made sure I mentioned that though I’m aware my daughter has used drugs, I have zero suspicions at this time. I didn’t at the moment I wrote that.
Of course, it’s a lie. I suspect all the time that she’s smoking pot every time she leaves the house. Every time she doesn’t have money for gas, despite having two jobs, I assume she’s spent whatever pocket change she has on a bag of weed. I assume that the reason she has put on weight in the last few months and always craves junk food is because she is stoned. I have no way to prove it, and it would be a tremendous battle to get her to pee in a cup, so I ask and nag. She swears on bibles, graves, dead puppies, and her job that she wasn’t smoking pot.
Here’s where this is going: Yesterday, I was tired and decided to come home early and nap before going to the gym. I texted my daughter to let her know I was coming home early, too. I never heard back from her, so I assumed that she was still involved in placement testing at the college and couldn’t get on the phone.
I couldn’t have been more wronger—er—wrong—er—incorrect! I walked in the door to find her asleep on the couch, still in her work clothes. I called to her, but she wouldn’t awaken. I called again and nothing. I went to my room to change out of my work clothes, and she still wasn’t stirring when I came out. I figured she was really tired so I went over to give her a kiss and cover her up.
BUT, BUT, BUT right beside her on the couch was a pot pipe and a lighter. The same pot pipe I found in her room and gave her to give away (see my stupidity in this post http://booboostotatoos.blogspot.com/2011/06/again-and-again-and-again.html). I picked it up and screamed at her---the stuff you’d expect me to say.
She followed me through the house as I went to get the hammer so I could smash the goddamned thing once and for all. While I crushed that glass pipe, she pleaded with me to listen to her, so I finally did. She went through the expected defenses and swore that she only had a puff or two (in the car, not the house, as if that makes it better), that she hasn’t been doing it at all, that it was only half a bowl (whatever that means), that she’s been doing so well and she’d never ruin her accomplishments, yada yada yada.
I calmed down, heard her out, decided to move on and take that nap that I was now desperate for. I had her run some time-consuming errands for me and we made our deal to go to the gym afterwards.  I had to make her go, and I had to wait for when she was good and ready, but we went. It was probably harder for her than for me, even though we are equally out of shape. She is a smoker and she had been recently stoned (according to me).
I don’t know what to do, don’t know if what I do matters, don’t know if I should include a punishment. I’m lost and really trying to find something to grab onto. Will the gym keep her occupied? Will my disapproval and lack of trust for her make a difference? Will she grow out of this? Will the judge in the courtroom scare her next week? Will they drug test her? I hope the answer is YES to all of the above.

Rest in Peace, Stepdad---And Thanks for the Lessons

Our lives have been hectic. My stepfather died on June 5. He was 79 and in terrible health due to years of massive, addictive smoking. It caused him to have emphysema, heart problems, asthma, and a myriad of other problems. I believe he was on more than 15 medications, some of which he filled under my name or my mother’s name.  He mostly self-subscribed, as he was a doctor himself.
My daughter loved him very much and this was very sad for her—though I wouldn’t say traumatic. She’s generally doing well at work and with most choices, and has been an amazing help to my mother throughout this ordeal. She checks on her nana often and visits her, and generally keeps in touch. It’s especially challenging for this daughter because she’s not a very sentimental, nurturing, or even empathetic person, but she adores her grandmother and pushes past the difficulties.
We have a court date coming up next week for this daughter, and we’ve been prepping for it mentally. She has to show that the issues that are being addressed by the judge are the past and doesn’t reflect who she is now. We’ll bring in pay stubs, her driving school certification, and even her registration documents for college…
 
Yes! That’s what I said. She’s enrolling in the local community college (which is two minutes from our house)!! On her own, she arranged to take the necessary placement tests and will meet with an advisor in the next few work days. I’m proud of her—I wish she’d ask for my help, but I know her very well. She needs to do this on her own and I remain on stand-by to answer questions or pull out the checkbook. It looks like she’ll be attending classes starting at the end of August—college classes. She’d actually only be going into her senior year of high school had she not gotten her GED.
Another positive step she’s taken is joining a gym. My two daughters and I took inventory recently and noticed that we were out of shape and had put on unnecessary weight. So, instead of whining about it, we’re doing something. I bought both daughters and me a membership and we’ve already started using it. My older daughter uses her membership in California and her sister and I are here at home. We did our first workout yesterday, and plan to go three times a week for an hour each time. We made a realistic goal for ourselves. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that she’ll keep up with the plan and begin new, healthy habits. I want her to like the place and go on her own—of her own volition.
I think watching someone die is somewhat personal. The person kind of teaches you life lessons by being gone...their death makes you look at your own life, habits, accomplishments, hopes, dreams, and shortcomings a little more closely. I just know I don’t want my tombstone to say, “She was nice, she worked hard, and she wasn’t too fat when she died.” There’s more to life and I want my daughter to feel that way too.

6/2/11

Again and Again and Again….

Our story always gets better! So I was having some company the other day and naturally decided to do some housecleaning. The worst room in the house? My 17-year-old’s, of course. She was at work, so I did the usual stuff—picked up the dirty clothes and put them in the hamper, threw away the abundant trash, made the bed…then I needed to vacuum, so I picked up the random junk off the floor, including a nice small box by the side of her bed.
I opened it and it STUNK from marijuana. The box was her stash—a glass pipe with sticky residue, a few boxes that sift out the leaves, a little baggie of pot, and general paraphernalia. I’m sure they all have names; I just don’t know what they are. After pacing a good bit and cursing out loud, I texted her to call me ASAP.
She did what you’d think, the typical bullsh*t—pretended that she forgot about it, said she hadn’t even smoked in soooo long, claimed it wasn’t hers…etc. I told her I was throwing it out and she angrily said that was fine, but I should save the boxes so she could give them to someone. I screamed and carried on and told her how disappointed I am. She, on the other hand, was cold and didn’t apologize or react the way I’d hoped. She was entirely stoic, which is the wrong response in my opinion.
I’m ridiculous, possibly weak—I actually washed them in the dishwasher, scrubbed out the box, and let her dispose of them as she saw fit. They’re not in my house or her car, but I still should’ve thrown them out anyway. I know it, but I didn’t do it. You don’t have to beat me up; I already have.
I feel like it’s all hopeless. I try so hard to trust my child, try to give her the benefit of the doubt because she can be loving, lovely, and lucid—but sometimes I think she has a borderline personality and cannot empathize  and have normal emotions that don’t involve herself.

From Juvenile Court to Attorney General's Office--Big Step in One's LIfe

I think my daughter is a schlimazel—you know, the one who doesn’t do the stuff all the time, the one who it gets done TO. I think it was explained as the schlemiel spills the soup and the schlimazel is the one it’s spilled on.
For her, she’s done relatively well overall. No accidents, no tickets, no arrests, not too many bad moods, and not even staying out late. So, we blindly carry on, trying to forget about the past and not be too worked up by upcoming court dates to deal with the old stuff.
Too good to be true. She decided to spend time with a friend of hers, doing normal things like shopping and eating. She got dressed up in a pretty dress, did her hair, and wore new shoes her grandmother treated her to. She picked up her friend and on their way out, made a right on red, not realizing that it was the only intersection in this whole city of millions where you’re forbidden to do so. She was stopped immediately and ticketed. Upon researching her license, the officer discovered that her license is actually suspended—making this stop a huge problem. Long story short, her car was impounded.
I got the hysterical phone call to come pick her up and luckily I had come home from work early so I could come right away. The car was gone by the time I got there—I don’t understand why I couldn’t just take it myself, since my license is good and the car is registered in my name. But there was no sense arguing. We were both respectful to the officer—by training, instinct, and good sense. He could’ve thrown the book at her and had her arrested. Thank God there was nothing for her to worry about like in the past—such as pipes, residue, open containers…
This was a terrible situation—we had to make a plan because my daughter has not one, but two jobs.  I ended up getting up at the crack of dawn to take her to work and she took the bus to her second job. She relied on friends here and there to give her rides, but most of the time she was stuck at home. I let her cry over it.
In the meantime, she finally read her last ticket(s), which clearly said she  needed to attend traffic school in order to reinstate her license. She took a day to make arrangements and attended a week later. We also picked up her car at the impound lot. What a pain in the rear. I had to spend two hours in a police coding enforcement office near the airport and pay a fine of $150 to get the clearance to pick up her car. Then we had to find a second driver to get her car from the lot, which was about a half hour north of our house. Her buddy was her driver until she finally went to the DMV to get her license back. That made her crazy.
She’s now got her car back and we thought life would be good--BUT we found out that the Attorney General’s Office is on her trail. Instead of a hearing at the Juvenile Court, it’s been moved to the AG’s and it’ll be a real court proceeding. It  not only means that they’re tired of all these complaints, but she’s about one strike away from being detained. It also means that she may be placed on probation, where they can run her life for a long time, drug test her, put her in a program, and make her do community service  and maybe more. The case will be overseen by a probation officer until she’s 18 (in December). After that, one mistake and she goes to jail for sure. I spoke with the juvie social worker, a very negative, hard woman, and that’s what she said. I got defensive—I couldn’t help it. My child isn’t a thug or white trash, and she isn’t what’s on paper. Those are just things she’s done. I don’t deny it, I just don’t appreciate someone else categorizing my daughter without knowing her.
This is overwhelming and she’s very depressed. She apologized for being such a terrible daughter and it broke my heart. What could I do? I told her nothing will make me stop loving her, believing in her, and being proud of her. I know she tries, I really do, poor kid’s just a schlimazel.